


Love and language and violence and hate

by okaybutlikewhy



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Dadza, Dave | Technoblade and Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit are Siblings, Gen, also wilbur is the oldest brother, and also just platonic relationships, and clashes of perspective and goals, and schlatt quackity n fundy are some sorta weird familial unit thing, and the way that our privilege can shape our perspective of the world, bite me i don’t make the rules, eret niki and tubbo are siblings too, i just think it’s neat, its about the conflict between violence and diplomacy, the pros and shortfallings of each, while the dream team is just vibing with that best bro energy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:07:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27524344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/okaybutlikewhy/pseuds/okaybutlikewhy
Summary: In a world where hybrids are ostracised, and their valuable mutations sold by illagers to the highest bidder, an Ender Dragon hybrid seeks a safe place for his family, hidden deep within the jungle. As wayward and lost children stumble across this safe haven, though, it grows into a village; a place for hybrids and humans to live in peace.But the arrival of new villagers stirs up tensions as the language of violence comes up against the value of words and diplomacy. At the same time, a group of illagers becomes aware of the settlement’s existence, and the nature of oppression and cooperation come into question as the community considers how to deal with this new threat.Meanwhile, the ebb and flow of life and love continues its apathetic dance.
Relationships: Antfrost & Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Darryl Noveschosch & Sapnap, Dave | Technoblade & Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Eret & Nihachu & Tubbo, Zak Ahmed & Darryl Noveschosch, everyone & everyone honestly
Comments: 43
Kudos: 249





	1. Visitors

**Author's Note:**

> uhhhh imma give you the ages of these characters, but the rest of the context will be revealed throughout the story. enjoy! 
> 
> Phil: 28  
> Wilbur: 17  
> Techno. 14  
> Tommy: 9  
> Eret: 19  
> Niki: 16  
> Tubbo: 9  
> BBH: 17  
> Skeppy: 14  
> Dream: 14  
> George: 16  
> Sapnap: 13  
> Antfrost: 13  
> Jschlatt: 18  
> Quackity: 18  
> Fundy: 13

_Dimension: Overworld. Year: 4037._

They arrive on a crescent moon, as the children prepare a welcome back feast in the town square.

It’s Tommy and Tubbo who first notice their approach. The two, usually dwarfed by their older siblings and friends, sit nestled together on the roof of Eret’s cottage, surveying the festivities below as a king surveys his domain. When a surge of movement catches the corner of his eye, Tommy finds himself looking out into the jungle just beyond the flat plain of their village. Shrouded in shadow under the black night, he squints to make out a cluster of figures making their way out from the tree line, moving towards the light of their party. His mouth splits into a wide grin. 

“Visitors!” He calls out to those below, and turns to face Tubbo with an exuberant cackle. “Visitors! Look, Tubbo, people are coming!”

Tommy is young, and loud, and hasn’t yet learnt to fear the word “visitor”. Those below are not so lucky, but by now they are at their doorstep, and it is too late to do anything about it.

It’s a group of illagers, about thirty strong, the procession headed by an imposing man, presumably their leader. He wears a fur scarf over his shoulders, a diamond sword on his belt and a crossbow - loaded and pointed into the crowd of children - in his hand. At his side is a woman; a little taller, a little wider. She has a diamond axe swinging lazily in her grip, and a shield slung over her shoulder. The others lag behind, their gazes running with a greedy intensity over the partygoers, lingering at those who boasted non-human features. 

The leader speaks first. “Who’s the adult, here?” He asks. His voice is confident. Smoother than most. 

There’s a hushed second, as fifteen pairs of eyes flicker up to the inky sky above, and the absence of their eldest is suddenly, strikingly apparent. When no one moves to say anything, though, a brunette figure takes a half step forward, his eyes hidden behind a pair of shades. “I’m the oldest.” They say, even though he’s just nineteen years old, and hasn’t had to be the adult since he was a child. 

The illager hardly spares him a glance. “You’re blind.” He dismisses.

Eret doesn’t skip a beat. “And you’re a dickhead.” He responds, tilting his head slightly. “But you asked for age, not features.”

This time, the illager looks a little more closely. “You’ve got a mouth on you.” His tone is measured. After a tense second, he relaxes his posture and heaves the crossbow over his shoulder, letting the arrow rest pointed at the sky. “But none of you are in a position to fight. Let’s do this the easy way. What price are you looking for?”

Eret shifts a little at this, caught off guard. “Price?” He asks, but not everyone is so confused. Three children - a lean boy behind a simple white mask, a taller figure with dark hair and bright eyes, and a kid with a pair of goggles perched on his head - take a few measured steps to surround a fourth boy, an obvious ocelot hybrid with wide blue eyes. On the other side of the square, a boy with a striking braid of pink hair moves towards the banquet table, clawed fingers wrapping around the iron sword used for cutting bread, and another brunette - the tallest of them, with the finest clothes - shoots him a warning glance. A shorter boy with spiky hair places a protective hand on the arm of a tall, hooded enderman hybrid. 

In the darkest corner of the square, three figures melt into the shadows.

The illager laughs. “Your hybrids.” He says with exaggerated patience. “They’re not the finest specimens around, but we’re a generous lot. We’d be willing to take them off your hands for you, and leave you with a little pocket change in the process.”

There’s a horrified silence as the implications of his words sink in. Then, an outraged cry from a girl with a halo of blonde hair. “You want to _buy_ our friends!?”

“Friends?” Repeats the leader, as the woman next to him rolls her eyes. 

“For fucks sake.” She mutters. “They’re _hippies_.” 

The leader’s lips form a silent ‘o’ of understanding, then drop into a frown. “So we’re not going to be doing this the easy way?” He asks Eret, sounding almost disappointed. 

Eret blinks at him in disbelief. “No.” They say, voice shaking. “No, I’m not in a human trafficking sort of mood, actually.”

“Fine.” The leader says, shrugging his crossbow off his shoulder with a slight sigh. “Then we do it the hard way.”

The pink haired boy doesn’t hesitate. Within moments he’s among the hoard of illagers, ignoring his brother’s cry of “Techno!”, and in a single, fluid motion his sword has severed the leader’s hand from his arm. The crossbow almost seems to fall in slow motion, right into the grasp of the masked boy in green, who fires it into the leader’s foot. The man bends over and howls in pain, arrow lodged deep into the dirt, holding him in place. Techno, having successfully disarmed another illager, tosses Dream the looted diamond axe with a warning grunt. In return, Dream slips the leader’s diamond sword from his holster and passes it to the pink figure as they take out a third illager together. They share a quiet, adrenaline fueled grin. 

The girl, after an appraising glance at the two smaller boys on the roof leaves her satisfied that they are safe, snatches another bread utensil from the table and joins the battle. George, Sapnap and Antfrost follow closely behind. Skeppy goes to join them, but the enderman hybrid stops him with a hand on his arm. “Skeppy, no!” He protests. “You’ll just be as bad as they are.”

Skeppy shoots him a disbelieving look. “Wha-Bad, they’re literally trying to buy you.”

“Then don’t be as bad as they are!!” Bad slips into a shrill yell, but Skeppy’s attention is stolen when Techno calls for his backup. He spares Bad a single, apologetic smile before shaking free from his grip and accepting an iron sword from his piglin-hybrid friend. Bad gives a frustrated huff, and instead moves to help Eret, who’s feeling along the side of his cottage to try and find where Tubbo and Tommy got up. “Kids!” He’s calling to them. “It’s time to come down, now!”

“I’ll get them.” Bad promises him with a warning hand on his shoulder, and a second later has teleported himself onto the roof of the building. There, Tommy and Tubbo huddle together, gaping at the battle below. Even as he tries to avert his gaze, Bad has to admit: its impressive. Techno and Dream are mere blurs of pink and green respectively, illagers falling around them as they dart throughout the field. Niki stands on the remains of the banquet table, swinging a chair and an iron sword at anyone who dares approach her. Sapnap and George are on either side of Antfrost, the three of them taking on a circle of illagers together while Skeppy beats a particularly bulky threat with the blunt side of his sword. At the very least, Bad notes with a surge of warmth, the smaller boy is fighting non-lethally. 

He notices Wilbur standing slightly off to the side, expression tight as he watches Techno. Whether it’s worry or anger Bad can’t tell. Either way, he tears himself from the theatrics and crouches by Tubbo and Tommy. “Come on, boys. Time to go.”

“Fuck you.” Tommy breathes, eyes following Techno across the field, wide with admiration. 

Bad gives a frustrated growl. “Come on!” He says again. “Your brother is looking for you, Tubbo.” 

That gets the boy’s attention. “Eret?” He asks, shuffling onto his knees. “Are they okay?”

“He’ll be fine once you’re there.” Bad tells him, thanking the gods that at least one of the two children was somewhat reasonable. “Come on.”

But before he can coax the two down any further, he’s distracted by a dark shape passing above them. The sky, already an inky black, darkens as the stars wink out behind the figure of a man, two dark wings casting them into shadow. As the yells and grunts falter down below, Bad knows that they’ve noticed it too. He feels a smile touch the corners of his mouth.

Their adult has arrived.


	2. It will be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wilbur and Techno have a few differences. They always have. Perhaps they always will.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhhh if you’re confused the narrative is going to jump around a little bit. Every even numbered chapter will be a flash to the past, while every odd numbered chapter will take place in the current narrative ^-^

_Dimension: Overworld. Year: 4030._

__

__

_7 years prior to commencement of story._

Techno has been with them for nearly a month, now, and Wilbur has yet to hold a steady conversation with the younger boy - his younger brother.

Partly, Phil knows, the fault lies with Techno. The piglin hybrid is quiet, and aggressively private. Even when he does speak, it’s in harsh, stilted sentences; conversations of awkward pauses, and neglected social cues. But Phil cannot blame him for this; Techno’s voice is as husky and disused as his social skills, and he knows that conversing with others as equals must be a new and terrifying experience for him. At the very least, he is trying. 

The same cannot be said of Wilbur.

Phil watches them from a perch high in the jungle foliage, lounging lazily on a shady branch, his reptilian wings blending in seamlessly with the dark greenery. Wilbur kneels in a patch of grass by their settlement (not a village, not yet. Just two measly houses, holding two broken families). With him is Niki and Tubbo, the older two laughing together as the toddler waddles after a particularly heavy bee. Techno and Eret sit several feet away from them, under the shade of Eret’s cottage. Eret has never held issue with Techno’s quiet demeanour, and Phil is used to seeing them together in comfortable silence. This time, though, they speak in bursts of hushed whispers, and their eyes dart intermittently towards the louder cluster of children in the open, under the late afternoon sun. 

This scene goes on for a significant period of time, as scenes tend to do on lazy days. It continues as the sun sinks lower in the sky, Tubbo now entertained by the patterns made by the jungle’s shadow as the leaves dance in the breeze, Wilbur and Niki competing over who can find the night’s first visible star. Techno and Eret remain huddled together, casting restless glances as the other three, embroiled in an impassioned debate. Phil doesn’t want to get involved; he is new to the world of children, yes, but he knows enough to understand that adult imposed solutions will never end conflict. The best he can do is catch them while they’re alone, and give them a nudge in the right direction. But the sun continues to fall and the shadows grow less pronounced, and he knows that once the dead begin to claw their way up from their temporary graves he will have to intervene, and send them all off to bed.

For now, he can only hope that they will resolve it before then. 

Techno pushed himself to his feet, and for a moment Phil allows himself to hope that some progress will be made. He takes a few, tentative steps towards his older brother, then hesitates. He turns back to Eret. Eret gives him an enthused thumbs up. Techno nods and sets his sights back on his target. 

Phil stifles a laugh at the methodical way Techno approaches them. He walks like he’s stalking his pray, every step calculated to conserve energy, eyes slightly narrowed. The amusement ends, though, once Wilbur notices the hybrid’s approach. He is on his feet in an instant, taking a few hurried steps towards Tubbo and scooping the toddler up off the ground. Arms wrapped protectively around him, he spins to face Techno as if facing a foreign threat. Techno freezes.

There’s a rocky silence.

“Hi, Techno.” Niki says quietly, offering him a small smile. He reciprocates it to the best of his abilities, and Phil feels a pang of pride when it actually somewhat resembles a smile more than a grimace. Their lessons have been paying off.

“Hullo.” He responds. Like a particularly persistent swarm of gnats, silence falls upon them again. It lasts just a moment too long.

From a few feet away, Eret clears his throat. Techno swallows. “Hi, Wilbur.” He tries. 

Wilbur holds Tubbo closer to his chest. “Hello.” 

Wilbur has always been protective. Ever since Phil found him abandoned by an active ender portal, waiting for parents who would never have the opportunity to return. Ever since his earliest travels alongside Phil, glaring at any villager who’s gaze lingered on his guardian’s wings. Ever since their first run in with a hoard of illagers, turning to a bruised and beaten Phil with tears in his eyes, begging him to take them somewhere far, far away, where no one would ever be able to hurt them again. 

Yes, Wilbur has always been protective. Phil had hoped this would help him latch onto a younger sibling: someone to protect from the world. Instead, he seemed to believe it was the world that needed protecting from Techno.

Phil still hasn’t forgotten Wilbur’s terrified, furious shriek as Techno - newly freed from captivity - immediately turned on his liberators, using Phil’s own sword against him, digging it deep into his gut. It was an understandable response, from the perspective of a child raised in violence. It was a cruel, incomprehensible attack, from the perspective of a child raised among family. 

When Wilbur shies from him, Phil wonders of Techno can connect this behaviour to their first meeting, and the disastrous aftermath. Or, he fears, does the boy just see another human, terrified of a species he cannot understand.

Phil hears bones rattling far below his perch. He pulls himself to his feet, stretches out his wings. There will be no more progress made today. For now, they will sleep.

~

Wilbur hasn’t eaten breakfast in his own house for almost a month now, because of the new kid. 

It’s not like it’s the end of the world, eating with Eret, Niki, and Tubbo. He likes them...okay maybe not so much Eret, but the other two are cool. Its nice, having friends again. But it doesn’t matter whether it’s fun or not: what matters is that Phil is choosing a rabid kid who literally _stabbed_ him over Wilbur, who has been loyal by his side for almost three years now.

It’s infuriating. No, it’s terrifying. Because Phil puts so, so much trust into the new kid; Wilbur’s caught the dragon hybrid turning his back on Techno almost ten times now. Wilbur isn’t a fighter. He can’t protect Phil when things go south again.

So why is Phil - the man who upended his entire life just for Wilbur’s sake - putting him in this position? 

Wilbur wakes up before the sun has even breached the horizon, nowadays, so that he can get dressed and slip over to Eret’s place before he has to face the new kid. Usually, he’s up even before Phil, who has never been a morning person. But this time, when he pads down the stairs to the front door, he’s surprised to find Phil perched on their dining table, waiting for him.

He sighs. He’s been feeling this lecture coming for days, now, especially after the incident last night. He’d just hoped it wouldn’t come quite so soon.

“Good morning, Wilbur.”

“Morning, dad.”

He stands hesitantly at the bottom of their stairway. It’s been a long time since he’s felt awkward around his dad. Phil gestures at him to take a seat next to him, and Wilbur - too tired for defiance - complies. 

Phil begins. “So, son, I’ve noticed that you’re still feeling a little jumpy around Techno. Can I ask you why?”

Wilbur shoots him an unimpressed glare. “Gee, I wonder. Because most kids who stab innocent fathers are totally safe to keep around.”

“He was scared, Wil.” Phil’s voice remains calm. 

“Well, I’m scared right now, and I haven’t resorted to attempted murder. It’s not that hard.”

“Techno isn’t like you.” 

“That’s the problem! Techno doesn’t think. He just stabs. And apparently I’m the only one who sees a problem with that!!” Wilbur only realises that his voice has risen to a yell once he’s finished, and he blinks. Phil gives him a disappointed look, and Wilbur has to swallow his rage at the fact that he’s the bad guy, here. 

Not the fucking murder child. 

Wilbur slips of the table without saying anything else, and helps himself to a loaf of bread before moving towards the front door once again. He pauses when Phil tries once more: “He needs your help, Wil. He’s scared.”

“Better watch your back, then. He starts stabbing shit when he’s scared, remember?” Wilbur responds, his voice sour. Then, he leaves. 

~

Techno hears all of it. Of course he does; he’s part piglin. He hears a lot of things, all sorts of things, things that he can’t even be sure are real...but they don’t know that. So he hears all of it, and they have no idea, and he gets to planning.

Wilbur thinks he isn’t safe. He thinks he is too violent, and doesn’t trust him around Phil or even the other three. That’s fine. That’s okay. Techno can fix it. He can make Wilbur like him.

He has to. Because, if it comes down to it, he is sure that Phil would choose Wilbur over him. And he can’t go back out there, into the world. Not now that he knows what it’s like to feel safe. 

So, then, the question is how can he prove himself to Wilbur? Techno hums, and taps a tune on his wooden bed frame. His fingers are made out of the same material as a hoof, each of them sharpened to a menacing point. He’s never had someone call him _too_ violent before. 

You can’t be _too_ violent in the Nether, where every mob is hostile, and violence is the only way to keep yourself from the scorching lava pits. Or among the people of the Overworld, who need money to feed themselves and their family, and would fall upon anyone unlucky enough to be worth selling. And certainly not with the illagers, who kept him around for only as long as he could be entertaining. As long as his fights could draw in a crowd. 

So, no, he’s never been too violent. He’s not quite sure what being not-too violent would involve. So, he needs an example. Someone to base his behaviour off of. Who’s the least violent person he knows?

Easy. Eret. Wilbur doesn’t use his fists, but his words are painfully sharp. Niki has never been one to back away from a fight, not if it’s for a good cause. Tubbo is a baby, he doesn’t count, and Phil...he’s seen what Phil can do. But Eret is soft, and thoughtful, and careful.

Wilbur will like him if he’s more like Eret. 

And to show everyone just how similar they are, he’ll do what Eret does: he’ll take care of the baby.

~

The sun is going down and Tubbo is missing. 

Wilbur is hysterical. Niki is hysterical. Hell, Phil’s feeling a little bit hysterical himself. Even Eret speaks with a waver in his voice, a waver that Phil hasn’t heard for more than a year now.

Worst of all? Techno is missing, too. And Phil tells himself, swears up and down to himself that Techno would never hurt a baby. But when Wilbur - eyes rimmed red and hands clenched in shaking fists - reminds him that they’ve only really known Techno for a month, he feels a horrible weed of doubt sprout deep inside his gut. 

Fuck.

Niki sprints for the jungle first. It will be night soon, and the jungle isn’t safe at night, but Niki has always been impulsive. Wilbur follows soon after, and Phil makes Eret promise to watch for Techno’s possible return before he follows after them. He can’t stop them, doesn’t want to, not when Tubbo is on the line. But he can accompany them, and guard their backs. 

Not that he can do all that much in the jungle, he realises far too late. Because jungles are thick with vegetation, and impossibly tight corners wind like some sort of claustrophobic maze. Phil cannot extend his wings in a place like this. He can barely keep up with the children in a place like this, not without the spiked tips of his wings snagging on the foliage above. He has a sword, but he has always relied on the dexterity granted by flight in battle situations. He is not one for close combat. 

It takes about twenty minutes for darkness to fall. By then, their voices are hoarse from yelling, and Phil can see that the children have grown fatigued. There is still no sign of Techno or Tubbo. Around them, the dirt starts to shift. 

The dead begin to rise. 

Phil swears to himself, and unsheathes his sword. They should have turned back by now. Niki and Wilbur turn to him, eyes wide, and he gives them a small nudge in the smalls of their backs. “Keep running.” He orders, trying to keep his voice chipper and level. “Just run and call out for Tubbo and Techno. Cover as much ground as possible. I’ll get rid of anything that tries to catch up with us.”

Wilbur swallows. Niki nods. Phil tries not to think about the fact that a baby isn’t going to survive beyond this point on his own. 

They run. Wilbur’s voice breaks, and doesn’t come back again. Niki’s feet are bare, and track blood across the jungle floor. Droplets of blood make their way down Phil’s wings as they are lashed by passing vines. His sword, already half used, grows brittle. He struggles to keep up with the smaller two, who can dart under branches that Phil must avoid. He keeps up their flank, slashing down any zombie that gets too close, long decayed blood staining his white tunic a greying-green colour.

A zombie gets the drop on him and slashes a deep gash down his arm, but he can’t afford to flinch. A stray arrow gets him in the shoulder, and he stumbles a little bit. When a skeleton gets too close to Wilbur, Phil throws himself in its path. An arrow goes through his thigh. He drops to one knee. 

They’ve been out for almost an hour, now. They haven’t found Tubbo. They probably never will. Phil wonders if he can stand, and wonders how he’ll get the children to safety if he can’t.

As Wilbur tugs on his arm, Niki pries his sword from his grip. They back up until their rear is protected by the wide expanse of a jungle tree, and Niki bears the sword like a dagger at the approaching circle of the undead. She’s nine years old. She can’t take them all. Phil turns his eyes upwards, searching desperately for a break in the foliage wide enough to let him fly. Just a few strokes of his wings. Just enough to drop the children off on a branch, high above the reach of the mobs.

The branches and vines weave together like some sort of sadistic basket. It’s too thick to even see the sky. 

A flash of pink breaks through a tight patch of twigs and leaves to their right. It seems out of place in the black and dark green of the night. There’s a glimmer of something silver in one of its hands: an iron sword.

With a dull start, Phil recognises it as Techno. 

He rips through the mobs like a steak knife rips through fabric: violently, determinedly, with a harsh sort of ease. A decapitated skeleton here. An eviscerated zombie there. Phil feels his jaw drop open a little bit as he watches. He’s never seen Techno fight before.

It’s a gruesome sort of beautiful. 

Within minutes, or maybe even seconds, the hoard is dispersed. Not a single stray arrow made it out alive. Only Techno, tusks glinting in the darkness, shoulder length pink hair splayed around his head like a halo.

He turns to them, and with a pang of surprise Phil notices that his eyes are rimmed red. He’s been crying. 

There’s a beat. Niki takes a shuddering breath. “Where’s Tubbo?” She asks. 

“With Eret.” Techno responds. His voice is hoarse. “Dropped him off before I came.”

“Where were you?” Phil asks next. “We looked everywhere.”

“With the bees” Techno says, his voice wavering. “He wanted to see the bees. They’re only a little bit in the jungle. Not far. It’s just that the bees are loud. They buzz. Eret said you called, but I didn’t hear.”

That’s the longest burst of speech Phil has ever heard Techno say. That - combined with the blood loss and general, cumulative shock of the day - renders him speechless, and he can only stare at the small, bloodstained boy in front of him. Techno shrinks under his gaze, and when he speaks again his voice is barely a whisper. A plea for approval. “We were back before dark. I promise. I kept him safe.”

“It’s okay.” Phil promises him, unsure about how to respond to the fear in the boy’s voice. “It’s okay.” He tries to pull himself to his feet, but the arrow only digs itself deeper into his thigh and he hisses in pain. Techno lets out a high keening sounds, his eyes watering up. 

“I’m sorry.” He says, wide eyes fixed on Phil’s injuries. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t want you to get hurt. I’m sorry I couldn’t come faster, I tried but it’s hard to track sound when the trees are all together like this, I’m sorry I couldn’t-“

He’s cuts off when Wilbur lunges at him. He flinches. Wilbur’s cheeks are streaked with tears. For a horrible, horrible second, Phil thinks his son will strike the boy. 

Instead, he pulls his brother into a hug. 

“Oh gods, Techno.” He hears him whispering. “Oh gods. You scared me so much. So much.”

Techno holds his arms up, gingerly trying to endure the hug. “I’m sorry.” He says again, now sounding more unsure than scared. “I didn’t...he just wanted to see the bees. I wanted him to have fun.”

Wilbur barks a laugh that sounds more like a sob, and buries his face in Techno’s shoulder. Techno shoots Phil a confused look, and Niki laughs, still a little hysterical.

Phil can’t blame her. It’s been a long day. And it’s not over yet, not until they’re home. But for now, against all odds, he’s happy. 

Things aren’t fixed. Its not a perfect resolution. Not yet. 

But - Phil lets himself believe as Techno gives Wilbur an awkward pat on the head - one day it will be.


	3. That’s gonna be a problem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The adult arrives

_Dimension: Overworld. Year: 4037._

The Illagers freeze when the sky darkens above them. So do the children, slowing their attacks to a halt. A spell is cast, and the action stops in favour of fearful murmurs.

A phantom? The Illagers wonder. A flock of bats? A spirit?

No. A man. 

Techno pauses for a moment in his dance, watching the dramatic descent with wide eyes and a slight smile. He will always feel a lump of pride in his chest at this sight; a reminder of just how much grace, how much strength, how much _presence_ a hybrid can command.

And not just any hybrid. His father. 

His distraction proves to be a mistake, and he feels a sharp tug on his braid. He grunts as he’s pulled backwards and down, stumbling, legs scrambling to stay upright. He’s saved from a rough landing by an even rougher arm - easily double, triple the size of his own - wrapping itself around his neck, a cry of pain cut off by the pressure on his windpipe. The tip of a crossbow bolt rests on his temple, and he feels a drop of potion roll from its damp point down his cheek. He stops struggling.

Phil lands and earth shudders beneath his feet. He stretches his wings and stars themselves go into hiding. He surveys the battleground with flickering purple eyes and the shadowy trees bend to shrink from his gaze.

He gives a cheery smile. “Hey, mates. What brings you lot here?”

The head Illager, having finally ripped the crossbow bolt from his foot, straightens with a strained smile. “Finally,” he says, his voice still remarkably even, “an adult. Or, at least...” his gaze lingers on Phil’s wings, “the closest thing to an adult we seem to be able to get.”

Phil doesn’t seem bothered by this remark, but there’s a crash from a few feet above them, and slightly to the side. From the roof of Eret’s cottage, a young boy fumes. “You shut the fuck up!” He calls, his voice cracking, “Shut the fuck up, bitch! No one likes you, bitch!!”

From the same direction, there comes an aghast “Language!”

The Illager watches the cluster on the rooftop for a moment, then levels his sights back on Phil. “Is that a child?”

“ _My_ child.” Phil confirms, a hint of pride in his voice. 

“And you let it speak like that?”

“Good luck trying to stop him.”

“Hey, uh, I’m glad you two are getting along,” Dream cuts in from the middle of the frozen battlefield, back to back with Sapnap, the two of them keeping a ring of Illagers at bay with raised axes, “but we’ve taken down at least half of your guys, dude. Can you pack it up and leave us alone? Cause George is injured and I’m bored.”

“Also, they’ve got Techno.” Antfrost adds, lowing his sword and pointing listlessly at Techno’s predicament. A dozen pairs of eyes turn towards him, and Techno scowls at all of them.

It’s the female Illager holding him hostage, her grip firm, her mouth twisted into a grimace. “We didn’t come all the way out here just to surrender.”

“Cool,” Phil responds, “I didn’t take in all these fuckin kids just to have them kidnapped right in front of me. Like Dream said, half of your dudes are injured. They’re not fighting again any time soon. Save yourself some dignity and quit while your ahead, alright?”

The lead Illager eyes him for a moment, considering his options. Then, he nods. “Understood.” He says. “We’ll be bidding you adieu, then.”

Phil blinks. “What?”

Wilbur’s mouth drops into a shocked smile. “What?”

The Illager woman‘s eyes narrow. Her voice is cold and hard, like blackstone. “What.” 

The leader barely spares her a glance. “Come on, Rachel. We’re not winning this battle. Let’s withdraw with grace, shall we?”

Rachel’s grip on Techno’s throat tightens, and - despite the threat of the crossbow - his hands move to claw fruitlessly at his windpipe. “No.” She responds, her voice gruff. 

The leader sighs. “Rachel-“

“This is a good haul, Leonard. Probably the best we’ll ever come across. We’re not leaving.” Her grip tightens again. Phil tenses.

“We’re not winning, either.” Leonard responds, his voice tight. For the first time, his composure seems to be slipping. “Let the thing go. This isn’t our night.”

Rachel glares at him. He glares back. Techno lets out a choked gasp when she flexes her arm again, and Phil snaps. “Let him go.” He demands. “Or you die.”

There’s a beat. Something meaningful is communicated in Rachel and Leonard’s exchanged glance.

Rachel releases her hold on Techno, and - though his legs had previously trembled beneath him - he is away from her in a flash of movement, and pressed against Phil’s side. “Pack it up, boys.” Rachel grunts, avoiding everyone’s eyes. “We’re turning around. Get those who can’t walk moving - we’re not here to dawdle.”

Like the spell has been lifted, the stillness is replaced by a flurry of movement as the band of Illagers retreat. It happens quickly, efficiently, like a well used machine. They’re no rookies, Phil notes.

Dream watches them go, drifting closer to Phil. “What if they come back?” He asks once he’s close enough to keep his voice low.

“We’re in the middle of the jungle.” Phil responds. “It was dumb luck they found us in the first place. It’s not happening again.”

Dream doesn’t seem entirely convinced, but then, he never is. He nods, and regroups with Sapnap, George, and Antfrost. The others are moving now, too, stepping gingerly over the remains of their party. Niki returns to Eret’s side. Bad begins to assist Tommy and Tubbo’s descent into their arms. Skeppy goes to Techno first, grimacing at the bruises that ring his neck. “Ouch.” He says.

Techno glares. “I don’t need your pity.” His voice is rougher than usual, but Skeppy doesn’t flinch. Instead, he flashes a roguish smirk. 

“Maybe not,” he says, “but you definitely seemed to need me when you were calling for my help on the field. ‘Oh Skeppy’, you cried, ‘Save me, Skeppy, my sweet prince- ack!” He’s cut off by Techno clamping his hand over his mouth, and struggles for a moment before darting away, laughing. Techno lunges after him, but a smile dances on his lips. 

Glad to see someone raising his middle son’s spirits, Phil turns his attention to the other two. Wilbur is still standing obstinately to the side, arms crossed, anger and concern sharing duel custody over his expression. 

That’s gonna be a problem. 

Bad - having extradited Tommy and Tubbo from the roof - drops Tommy at Phil’s side. Phil smiles his thanks, but the usually cheery Enderman hybrid only huffs and slinks back towards the cottage he shares with Skeppy. The smaller boy - after having assured himself that Techno isn’t in any real danger - hurries to catch up to his roommate, but Bad pulls away when he gets near.

That’s gonna be a problem, too. 

“Techno,” Tommy asks, “is that the first time a woman has ever willingly spoken to you?”

Phil claps his hands. “Nope.” He decides. “It’s too late for all of your bickering. Bed. The lot of you.”

Eret hesitates. “Shouldn’t we clean up?” She asks. “It didn’t sound like the most hygienic battle...”

“We’ll do that tomorrow.” Phil dismisses with a wave of the hand. “It’s late, you’re all tired, we’re going to bed.”

“You’re not in control of us.” Dream says, because he always says that. “We don’t have to do what you say.”

Phil levels an unimpressed stare at the masked boy. Sapnap stifles a yawn. Dream huffs. “We’re going to bed.” He gives in. “But only cause we want to, not because of you.” 

“Right.” Phil raises a brow. “Good night to you, too.”

It doesn’t take long for the others to filter into their respective houses. Dream, George, Sapnap, and Antfrost settle into the largest of them, Dream fretting over a gash in George’s arm. Niki, Eret, and Tubbo move to a smaller but more intricate wooden cottage, close to Phil’s own. Bad and Skeppy had already disappeared into their home, a wonky thing covered in random splashes of colour. 

Phil sends Tommy off to bed alone, promising to be in soon to read him a bedtime story. Then, he turns his attention towards the storm brewing between his two eldest. Wilbur has drifted closer, obviously stewing on the same old argument. Techno looks up him, sword hanging limply from his loose grip, his face blank and flecked with blood. 

“Alright,” Phil says, “lets get it out now, yeah?”

Wilbur turns on Techno. “What the fuck, dude?”

“I didn’t kill any of them.” Techno says in his blunt, earnest sort of way. “I could have. But I didn’t.”

“Yeah,” Wilbur snorts, “you only permanently maimed them. Well fucking done, Techno. You want a fucking cookie?”

Techno levels his gaze at the taller boy, looking slightly confused. “They wanted to take me away, Wilbur. I had to stop them.”

“We all knew Phil was coming soon.” Wilbur hisses. “We could have stalled for him, we weren’t in danger. You didn’t even _try_.”

“I didn’t want to.” Techno huffs, nonchalantly studying his blade. “The voices asked for blood, so I gave them blood.”

“You got people hurt who didn’t have to be hurt! You got _yourself_ hurt!” Wilbur cries, throwing his hands into the air. “Sometimes, if you can just make a deal then we can fix things peacefully! You know, Schlatt says-“

Techno’s eyes narrow. “Yeah, well Schlatt was slinking off to hide with his goons the moment those Illagers showed up. Where were your precious words then, Wilbur? Cowering in a bunker somewhere?”

Wilbur blinks and looks around, as if noticing Schlatt’s absence for the first time. “He’s...no, I-“

“Boys.” Phil interrupts, seeing that this isn’t going anywhere. “Please. Does any of this really matter?”

Wilbur turns to him, face disbelieving. “Of _course_ it matters. Techno could have killed them, or killed himself-“

“But I didn’t-“

“But you could have! Phil, tell him he could have!”

“I honestly don’t give a shit.” Phil sighs. He’s too tired for this, and he doesn’t know how to make things better. “As long as you lot are safe, then I don’t care how we got here.”

Wilbur looks betrayed, and Phil knows he’s done something wrong. He curses himself. “How could you say that? What sort of parent are you!”

“Wil, please, I’m trying my best here-“

“Then why did you leave us?” Techno asks. There’s no malice behind the words - there rarely is, with Techno. 

But it hurts nonetheless.

Phil doesn’t know how to respond. Wilbur says nothing in his defence. Techno, as always, thrives in the silence.

“Well,” Phil says finally, “this was a shit show.”

Techno stays silent. Wilbur only hums in agreement. The adrenaline is crashing, now. The night seems a lot heavier than it did moments before, and the argument no longer seems worth the effort it would take to continue. 

“Let’s go to bed, boys.” Phil sighs. “We can solve this in the morning.”

Wilbur shakes his head. “I want to talk to Schlatt first-“

“You can do that in the morning, too. For now, let’s just...stop fighting. We’re family. Act like it.”

“Some things are more important than family.” Wilbur says quietly, eyeing the blood stained grass. 

“ _Nothing_ is more important than family.” Phil responds, and hates that he sounds like he’s trying to convince himself as well. “Please, let’s just go to bed. It’s been a long trip.”

They enter their cottage silently, Tommy already snoring upstairs. Techno disappears into his room almost immediately, but Wilbur hangs back for a moment. “We never asked.” He mumbles. “The party was for you, but we never asked. How was the trip?”

Phil castes his gaze over their empty kitchen, their well worn lounge room, the muddy footsteps on the wooden floor. “It doesn’t matter.” He says. “I won’t be going on another one.”

Wilbur shifts awkwardly. “No, Phil...Techno didn’t mean it. He understands you have to get out, sometimes. We all do.”

But Phil is shaking his head. “No, it’s not that. You’re children, it was irresponsible of me to go. You were in danger, I should have been here.”

“Phil-“

“Don’t worry about it, mate.” Phil says with a smile. “I don’t mind.”

It would sound a lot more convincing if he meant it.

~

The next morning, there’s an Illager on their doorstep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright, let’s play a game. if you can guess what the next flashback is gonna be, then i’ll name an Illager after you in the future.
> 
> here’s a hint: the flashbacks will always set up the focus of the chapter after it, which will usually be set up in the chapter before it. flashbacks are also always about the formation of the village or a specific character’s backstory, to explain a certain dynamic/character motivation 
> 
> good luck!


End file.
